


Wasted Hopes and A Failed Dream

by noesisandnonsense, SlySlyth



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Points of View, Season 4 Spoilers, Season 5 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:19:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6806521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noesisandnonsense/pseuds/noesisandnonsense, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlySlyth/pseuds/SlySlyth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each one of them was a piece to this puzzle, a key to taking down Samaritan. This work focuses on the internal points of view of characters during Season Five of Person of Interest. Major spoilers for the show from 4x11 on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Root: Fell In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking this out! I hope you enjoy it. I appreciate any feedback you have to offer.

Root waited for the children to pass through the crosswalk, with a careful smile on her face that met the eyes of the attendant. She gently placed the gun on the bloody passenger seat and took a second to think before she wondered out loud to the Machine. 

So many people wandering around her car and life, blind to the war that threatened to engulf them. Little children on their way to school, bouncing along with an ease she admired. She made her way on her own and never went to school the traditional way. It had to be this way though. Each one of them was a piece to this puzzle, a key to taking down Samaritan and Decima. 

Reese and Finch were almost paradoxically different. A blunt object and fine tool, but each necessary for what needed to be done. Except for picking up the phone apparently. 

“C’mon, guys, pick up.”  
-

Down she descended into the subway, hoping to get lost in the faces, but to no avail.

She sensed the danger of people around her, too many people who Samaritan could twist, the second she turned and saw the security camera staring into her. She quickly turned back and heard phones trill. 

Once.

Twice. 

Avoiding eye contact, maybe she could forgo giving them an asskicking and they would ignore whatever emotional exploitation Samaritan was utilizing. For all of the good the Machine did for her, Samaritan accomplished the direct opposite. 

But the three citizens rose, not breaking eye contact with her. No such luck.

She made quick work of them, itching to get out of the subway, and it opened to a slightly scared looking man who pointed a large gun in her direction. She smirked back at him and relaxed slightly, planning a quick route to Bela’s location. 

“Nice gun.”  
-

“Just needed a change. Got a new job. Fell in love.”

Root allowed herself to feel Shaw for a second and it spread through her all over again as she considered her change from gun for hire to some kind of hero. The Machine transformed Root’s weaponry into protection and the symbiosis of it all was especially pleasing to Root. The Machine loved and cherished Root in the same way that Root did her. Root had felt the Machine’s power from the moment she felt her. But there were some things that the Machine in all her power could not change. Root had not been able to save Hanna and now Shaw.

Unlike Hanna, Shaw lived but how Root could not allow herself to consider. Thinking about Shaw’s strength brought a smile that came to her face and quickly vanished. Nine, ten months since she had watched the elevator doors close on that image of her face. Screwed up in a calculated rage at Martine, lowering her gun in slow motion. Time stopped and every second since then had been agonizing. Desperate to save Shaw, desperate to get back what momentum that they had been reaching. 

Would they be the same as before?

The Machine and Shaw entwined in her head. She loved them and knew more than anyone else that they could, no, would persist. Could it be like before Samaritan ever existed? The Machine with her better world and no more hunting, perpetually cycling through identities. 

For all her life Root had been alone and on the run, but she found some version of a family and a home anyway. In Finch and Reese and Bear and Shaw…

-

All around her she saw people that depended on her, no other doing what she could do or with her ingenuity. John had looked puzzled, that was nothing new, when she asked him to get the gaming consoles. Any other time that look would have amused her, set her brilliant mind at ease, but there was no time for reminiscing - a sentiment that seemed frustratingly permanent. 

Maybe Shaw’s freedom from these emotions protected her. Maybe Shaw would return to her with an eyeroll and bitter remark about only missing Bear. Underneath the blankness Shaw would flick her eyes to Root and they would glint, teasing at the prospect of making up for lost time. 

But Martine’s threats had been wearing her mind thin in the background in ways that became harder to ignore. Shaw, her favorite, breaking. It was hard to believe in some manner since there was little to manipulate Shaw with. The what ifs, the simulations of what would happen when she sees Shaw again repeat. A permanent cycle, degrading hope. 

Hope was a flame that came as quickly as it went, the Machine finding her expansion through the consoles but overheating and damaging herself more in the process. 

John surprised her and Finch. In his own stroke of brilliance he blasted them with the liquid nitrogen, countering the Machine’s eager grasps for life once again and bringing her to a better baseline.

When the process was complete, they waited for her response, unsure of what she would say. 

She blinked back at them. 

Once.

Twice.


	2. Finch: A Chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. In the future I will try to update within a few days of the episode's airing.
> 
> While writing this I listening to (http://8tracks.com/singularfate/this-moment-was-always-looking-for-me), check it out!

The Machine’s progress alternated between tepid disappointment and promising advancement. The facial recognition bug was a setback, but what else could Finch expect he thought. Another blindness he put upon the Machine.

How much all of their faces had changed over the course of the Machine’s life?

From a beautiful smile that danced across Nathan’s face, dreaming of their new world, to his desperation for a fighting chance. An unshakable tenseness had increased over all their lives since the Machine’s birth. He could not feel any irritation at the bugs towards anyone but himself. Breaking it at any chance to succeed. At least he had Ms. Groves as a partner in this endeavor bonded by a paranoid knowledge and an absence of who they wanted most.

“One step at a time” he repeated to Reese and Fusco. He knew that they were right and they were just trying to get things back to how they were, saving lives. However, their eagerness did not translate into the Machine recovering any faster. 

Finch tried to defuse some of the anxiety that surrounded them in the subway with some humor, for it was hard to remain so tense with truly bad jokes.

Ms. Groves responded with an eye roll and a slap on his rear end, a gesture that again reminded him of Nathan’s partnership.  
-

Amusement and disbelief mingled behind John’s stoic, unchanging face at the list of creature comforts that Root wanted for her underground living space. It did seem silly to want bunny slippers at the end of the world, but they had to establish some normalcy and little things to brighten the ever darkening day. Conversely though it did feel selfish in some ways to Finch since Samaritan was surely leading many lives to ruin in their absence. 

However when John had evidence to the contrary, he was surprised. It appeared positive for murder rates to be declining, but it must be for some more sinister purpose and this apparent benevolence certainly did not extend through all of Samaritan’s operations. 

Finch’s annoyance at his inability to use the crowbar quickly dissipated when he saw the drives, a rare victory. Not only was progress being made, but their work with the Machine was being upgraded. 

-

The Machine was not especially expedient in locating John, but when it did it showed a whole new world. Ms. Groves was excited at all the possibilities and clamored to use it to find Shaw. But before he could respond he saw her. 

Grace. 

The Machine had errors everywhere Finch looked and the most persistent one was the one that they shared. Regressing to that period of creation. He saw Grace increasingly as he looked over the images of crowds. Grace’s red hair falling delicately down her back, not in the safety, was a waking nightmare. It was a imperative that she should be safe. He could not escape this war, but she would. 

-

It was nice to have a partner in the so many years later. Root was quick and skilled; life was never boring with her around. A reboot was routine and they could easily patch up the Machine. 

Something felt off from the instant she joined him the subway car. Her screams paralyzed and shocked him. Of all the people to hurt, Ms. Groves. She was an easier target after all, but she was the Machine’s most loyal advocate. The two shared a mysterious closeness that interested Finch slightly, but was wholly off putting at times contrasting with what he taught the Machine. She was an easier target after all, but Ms. Groves was the Machine’s closest relationship if such a thing were possible. However she remained devoted and perhaps the Machine had foreseen that.

It broke his heart and he could not decipher which hurt more, the Machine’s intentional attack on Ms. Groves or that it saw him as a threat. 

It was against everything he ever taught the Machine, while simultaneously pulling at his shame towards how he had treated the Machine throughout its’ existence.

-  
“Time for us to have a chat.”

He had tried what he thought was right before he understood the world in more complex ways. Tough on some level it could be seen that the side with the Machine was good and the side with Samaritan was bad, it was not that simple. The Machine’s team was full of people who has committed acts that he told it were unforgivable, but they saved people and used their knowledge for protection. Samaritan lowered murder rates as well, but it’s invasion of privacy for manipulation was criminal. 

The trip through the past proved to Finch and the Machine how necessary it was for their team to work with the irrelevants. They apologized to each other and in their mutual forgiveness it all felt more possible. They could rebuild, stronger than before.


	3. Reese: Didn't We?

Reese knew that the clock was ticking and tried to hurry up. Iris’s parent probably did not enjoy the pirate restaurant that he had chosen to meet them in. The phone rang in the background and he calmed her, quieting his voice to avoid showing his sweat. They looked bewildered and seemed to calm down slightly as he settled in. He never really had this sort of date with someone he was romantically interested in. The silliness of their surroundings put him at ease.

\- 

The Machine and finding the numbers all were functioning excellently, but with this revamped system he could go even faster and avoid making the wrong judgement about people which he often did. Despite Finch’s genius even he could not figure it out.

An affinity for riddles? All of this distracted from the wars they fought against crime and Samaritan. He heard Root’s musical voice looming across the subway and he turned and saw her. Root looked ridiculous, which was nothing new, but it never failed to confuse him. She could surely be used in more effective ways than collapsible identities, but that was the result of decisions he was not really that interested in. 

-

Reese walked slowly and carefully through the office, soaking up as much information as he could. He identified the locations of the fire alarms, exits and the ways to get out. He saw Alex going through some papers and he headed right past him, waiting outside the break room. 

He got closer to Alex, attempting to gather the cell information. He was thankful when the man dropped his cup, smashing it into pieces. Genial and showing his newness, he smiled at Alex. Happy to help. He complimented the man on his job, uplifting Alex and making him feel unchallenged by John. Another computer geek. He expressed envy to make the man feel more intelligent and so more capable. However, the was happy to be on the more explosive side as an operative rather than an asset. 

Alex was tense the whole time, eyes darting over the room and most often to the exit. He recoiled as if John had hit him when he asked him to go out for a beer. Hopefully, it would not come to violence. Alex did not come off as a physical threat. 

“Hey Finch, looks like out security expert is also a fan of breaking and entering.”

He peered through the office’s windows and saw Alex carefully extracting something from his supervisor’s office. Reese disappeared behind a nearby office, impervious to Alex’s quick gaze in his direction. 

It was all routine the same as he had a million times before. He was not entirely surprised when an agent stopped Alex, but when Beale stepped out of the vehicle he was floored. His anger at Beale rose with every step, even as Finch tried to reason with him. Reese would jeopardize too much, from Alex’s life to the safety of cover that the drives afforded him. He knew it. He did not care. He would act. He would save this one man, a man he would have been complicit in interrogating years ago. 

-

He knew the odds, but was confident. No one else could complete this mission but him. The arrogance of the guard was irritating, quipping and taking delight in Alex’s fear. It reminded him of Kara’s style. He flashed his knife at Alex not to scare him, but to keep his fear in check, quiet dread. Beale joining in the gunfight was not desirable, but with his bigger gun he took aim at Beale. He glared fiercely at Beale as he drove away cursing him as he had never been able to.

-

“You have siblings?”

He lied, his mind swimming in memories of his deceased and unknown family. He never had a biological family like how Alex meant. He moved from adoptive families to the one he shared with Conor and now with Finch. 

He remembered the military kid life with great sadness. Loving your parent and the fear of losing them while they were deployed. Being trained as a young boy that the military provided for you ultimately and was the best, easiest decision for one to make. It made your family and country proud. He believed in it all and the disillusionment he felt towards the military now made him feel more separated from Alex. 

Reese knew what it was like to want information that he couldn’t know. His biological family and Sophia drained him if his thoughts wandered too far. He should have been able to know them, but it would never be.

He also knew that Paul’s actions may seem terrible from his own experiences, but what he was accused of treason, may be different than what it seemed to be. 

Instead he found something more disturbing. Himself.

He exited the room and called Finch, now drowning in the past and flooding him. 

He could see it again. Shooting the protesting man straight through the chest. Trying to move on. Move away.

-

“Tell me what happened.”

Too fast. A lie. Something only he would know to be false. He created a story that he wished was true. Beale agreed with Reese’s story and at the first chance Reese sprung into action. 

-

Beale had been easy to catch. He stopped at the magazine stand and avoided Beale’s gaze. It was a debriefing of sorts and Reese had no interest in it, only turning upon the mention of Alex. He cut into the the word associate the same way he would cut into anyone who would go against him and pursue Alex. Beale chuckled at him and remained as cool as ever. 

Reese was not the blunt object he sometimes seemed. As with the case of Megan Tillman and Andrew Benton his efforts were not limited to life and death. It was never that simple. Indeed there was no good or bad. Life was not the opposite of death either. In protecting and saving people he also had to account for what this meant for their life. Would they just live an eroding life, faltering, and dying? Not while John Reese still had a say.


	4. Shaw: V.6741

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter for the foreseeable future. I will hopefully pick this back up in the future, but I make no promises. Writing has always been really hard for me and writing along with with these due dates is incredibly stressful for me.

Stuck and dissected in the hospital bed, Shaw clung to herself and any information that they could give her. The microchip too close to her brain stem? Too easy. She simulated the emptiness and indifferences that came from the real apathy inside her. They tried to pull any emotions from her but she was unimpressed and spoke with a quiet rage. She gave them some credit for those chosen were from the few she felt anything for, but she knew who they were. 

-

When she came to Shaw saw herself reflected in the glass, still and waiting. She idly wondered about the chip inserted into her skin and pulled at the bandage, stroking the thin line. The world around her changes, light fluctuating and a piercing noise in her ear. Her senses all seemed to turn on her and make the world turn on her. Well there were some sense she still had. 

She was careful to grab the glass and cover it in her hands throughout her feigned vegetative state. The nurse and Samaritan operative mocked her incompetence her fingers twirled over the glass itching to strike.

She loved this. Racing through the facility and striking down any in her path with a dexterity that stayed strong despite being trapped for an endless amount on time. Throwing their words back in their face along with a shot or two. It was so easy and natural it all faded away like it was just another number. All hope seemed lost when she saw the sea fade into the horizon, but there was a boat and she was one bit closer to freedom.

 

-

The taxi driver looked at her like she was crazy and he was concerned. Sweet, but it would be the first or the last time someone thought that on her. The taxi stopped by a shop that would serve her purpose anyway. Her brain spun, covering all the things she needed avoiding eye contact with anything other than the ground. 

Another person would have brushed off the young boy with more tact, but she had to time for a spotty kid who just wanted to talk to a pretty girl. She chose the Betty Boop lighter, because she too loved herself some pretty girls. 

Pulling again at the wound everything fluttered at hurt, her consciousness ebbing uncomfortably. She could have sworn she was out cold but reality was stark now. Her hands, stained brightly. 

She just needed to make them show up, she could handle herself for now, but she needed a break. She deserved a break. She got this far on her own.

The flashing happened again and it nearly knocked her off her feet, she clung to the walls on the store but it shifted throughout her mind and spun around. She was so disorientated she did not even notice her bullets ran out. 

Root’s musical voice echoed through the store and when their eyes met words fell away, for a second it all seemed okay again. Flirting came so easily she almost forgot. The next shock succeeded in knocking her out, falling away into Root’s arms. 

Being with Root again was slightly comforting and her bedside manner was eons better than the fool back at the Decima building. She remembered the iron along with her and found some light. Oh she had been so angry at Root for that as well as deeply interested. Somewhere between them the anger spilled over into a passion that left them aching and breathless. Unfortunately this knife wouldn’t lead to any happy endings other than the possibility that all of these hits to her mind would be gone. 

-

She began to wonder if it counted as eavesdropping if people talked to each other while she was unconscious. Root came over to her and tease her about moving in. Shaw scoffed at the idea, but knew that Root’s words were only partly a joke. Root was something more to her than anyone else had ever been before, but the intimacy of living in her space didn’t fit right. Bear however, could stay with her forever. 

The chip, so small, so innocuous on it’s own held depths. Tormenting her in some electric way. Finch with his cautiousness was the reason they could never get ahead. Always steps behind Greer. Instead of blowing Samaritan to hell, they retreated and covered their own asses.

The whisky was a nice touch, but it would take more than that to quell her anger. She looked over at Root, filled with sadness and emotions that Shaw couldn’t deal with in the way Root wanted. She didn’t feel gentle or soft emotions as she was alone with Root. Right now, she felt the resentment towards them for the fighting and chip and everything she had been through. 

“I’m not really in the right mindset for any of this.”

Too soft. Too domestic. It was a shock to her muted system. 

When she woke up she realized, the shock was just what she needed.


End file.
